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<title>A Magic Moment I Remember by sylviablatt</title>
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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/27450256">A Magic Moment I Remember</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/sylviablatt/pseuds/sylviablatt'>sylviablatt</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Character's Name Spelled as Viktor, Grand Prix Final Banquet, M/M, Pining Victor Nikiforov, Pre-Canon, Victor Nikiforov Needs a Hug, does this count as a character study?</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-11-08</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-11-08</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 16:13:34</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,095</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/27450256</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/sylviablatt/pseuds/sylviablatt</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Viktor falls in love. </p><p> </p><p>Set pre-canon, during and after the GPF banquet.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Katsuki Yuuri/Victor Nikiforov</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>55</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>A Magic Moment I Remember</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>It ends with Viktor standing in front of Yu-Topia Katsuki. The handle of a suitcase and a leash for his poodle in one hand, Google Maps loaded on his phone in the other. Brief flashes of his coach’s reprimands burned behind his eyes. He pauses, bites the words back and makes his way into the building.</p><p>A middle aged man greets him at the entrance of the onsen with a warm ‘<i>Irasshaimase!</i>’. Viktor wears his megawatt smile, practiced, but sincere all the same. He starts.</p><p>“<i>Hajimemashite, watashi no namae wa Viktor Nikiforov desu! Katsuki Yuuri wa - wa iru -</i>”</p><p>“You are here for Yuuri, yes?” the man asks, remnants of Japanese syllables lilting in his voice. “I am Yuuri dad, Toshiya.”</p><p>“Yes,  I’m here to coach him in figure skating.” Viktor steps forward. “His movements are so fluid - I’ve never seen anyone skate like that in my life!”</p><p>Toshiya nods twice, grin unrelenting. Viktor isn’t exactly sure whether he’d understood. Leaving no time for him to wonder, he exited the counter, gesturing for Viktor to follow him inside. He takes Makkachin and his belongings along with him.</p><p>Passing by room after room, the smell of eggs and freshly cooked vegetables wafted in the air. In the common area, middle-aged men gathered around tables watching television. There, he meets the wide-eyed gaze of a woman in the same uniform Toshiya wore. He couldn’t have been much older than him. Viktor bows his head slightly, smiling politely. In a split second, her expression softens, and does the same.</p><p>Viktor arrives at the door of where he assumes is his new room. A small room, boxes lined its walls. A low ceiling hung overhead.</p><p>“Sorry, it is a bit small.” Toshiya laughs sheepishly, clearing some empty boxes from the floor.</p><p>“That’s completely fine with me. Thank you for letting me stay here, Toshiya-san.”</p><p>“Of course, Viktor-san. Yuuri is doing some chores outside now. He will be back in a short time. Tell me if there is anything that you need.” A beat, then he raved about the how great the onsen was.</p><p>Viktor thanks him again. He settles in his new bedroom, telling Makkachin to stay as he heads into the onsen. <i>I can wait for a little while longer</i>, he supposes, <i>a little while longer for Yuuri.</i></p><p> </p><p>After all, he’s waited even longer for him. This half hour couldn’t compare to just how <i>long</i> he waited. All the quiet St Petersburg nights when he would lay in bed, thumb swiping on his phone screen. Photo after photo. Webpage after webpage. Video after video of the same, honey-eyed Japanese man.</p><p>Callous. Reckless. Never thinking of anyone else but himself. These have been words frivolously thrown at Viktor. He wanted to retort. Who would care for him if it weren’t for his name? His awards and achievements? But just as his smiles were practiced, so was his silence.</p><p>What he couldn’t express in words, he expressed in skating. Viktor told stories of his longing for life in every jump. Called out for love in each twirl. Danced for the liberty to be himself. But predictably, the masses failed to interpret just what he meant. Instead, they gushed about his prince-like good looks or his technical abilities.</p><p>Then came Katsuki Yuuri.</p><p>There were certain moments in life, a novel told him, when air would be sucked right out of your system. Where a great chasm between what you thought you knew and what you don’t know yet becomes so clear, that it stops your world from spinning on its axis momentarily. This was one of them.</p><p>Because Yuuri <i>got</i> it. Completely. Watching Yuuri skate his routine felt like warm hands tenderly wrapped around his face. Like wordless acknowledgement that someone else in the world understood his sorrows and fears and doubts -  all in the language that Viktor thought only he knew how to speak.</p><p>He bought a ticket.</p><p> </p><p>-</p><p> </p><p>Weeks before, he hadn’t been so lucky. Three weeks after the banquet night, Yuuri never texted or called him back. And maybe, Viktor was having a particularly rough night.</p><p>Three hours, two bars and nine shots later, colours started blurring and mishmashing together in his vision. Making out the faint outlines of an East Asian man jerkily swaying his hips in front of him. Though he couldn’t make out his features exactly, he danced with him anyway, hoping he looked like --</p><p>“Yuuri,” he whispered against the man’s ear without thinking.</p><p>“Excuse me? My na-ame,” the man used his middle finger to jab at Viktor’s chest. “is Hiroshi.”</p><p>“I apologise, I - I meant Hiroshi.”</p><p>“No, you fucking didn’t!” He shoved him, forcing Viktor to take a few steps back.</p><p>The man punctuated his speech with angry gesticulations. He rambled on and on about how his ex-boyfriend used him to try to get over someone else. Mid-tangent, Viktor apologises. “Look, I’m sorry for hurting your feelings. But I have to go,”</p><p>He hailed a taxi. In his drunken haze, he found himself flicking through the photos again. It took Viktor back to him.</p><p> </p><p>-</p><p> </p><p>It starts with Yuuri setting Viktor’s heart afire that night.</p><p>They danced like it was a challenge - in perfect unison. Their eyes trailed from arm to swaying hip so that every kick and pirouette was met with a response. When Viktor advanced, Yuuri retreated. When Yuuri offered his hand, Viktor took it and spun, jacket billowing.</p><p>Gazes locked, they revolved around each other in precise twirls. The music grew to a crescendo, loud and demanding, raven hair stuck itself on Yuuri’s forehead. Viktor’s suit clung onto his skin. Yet they couldn’t bring themselves to care — laughter bubbling up in their throats.</p><p>Just as soon as the dance started, it came to an end. Viktor had been dipped impossibly low, flexed calf outstretched. They anchored each other - with Viktor’s hand resting on his shoulder, and Yuuri’s arms curled around his back.</p><p>For a while, they stayed like that. Their chests rose and fell in quick breaths, lips curving into smiles impossibly wide.</p><p> </p><p>-</p><p> </p><p>Honey-brown met sky blue in the onsen. Heart thrumming wildly in his chest, Viktor thanked whoever was up there, for he no longer had to wait.</p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p>
<p></p><div>
  <p>Time passed. A rebel storm-blast scattered<br/>
The reveries that once were mine<br/>
In dark days of enforced retirement<br/>
I gazed upon grey skies above<br/>
With no ideals to inspire me<br/>
No one to cry for, live for, love.<br/>
Then came a moment of reinessance,<br/>
I looked up - you again are there<br/>
A fleeting vision, the quintessence<br/>
Of all that's beautiful and rare</p>
  <p>Alexander Sergeyevich Pushkin</p>
</div>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>thank u so much for reading this!!! it means so much to me<br/>please tell me what you think in the comments (if u want)</p><p>i hope i did them justice</p><p>thanks shermaine + ray</p><p>— sylvia</p></blockquote></div></div>
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